


Vimes' Night Before Hogswatch

by The_Icelander



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Guests coming by to make sure Vimes relaxes, Hogswatch, it ultimately fails of course, read to find out, sam vimes always gots to have a case to solve, will he end up arresting the hogfather?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Icelander/pseuds/The_Icelander
Summary: Vimes has a mandatory day off on the day before Hogswatch and tries his best to give his son the Hogswatch joy he never got as a kid.





	Vimes' Night Before Hogswatch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strawberriesandtophats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/gifts).



T’was the evening before Hogswatch, and Something wasn’t right. Vimes was sitting in his warm and comfy chair in the parlour, watching young Sam play with some tin soldiers. They had been an early Hogswatch gift for him. Carrot had swung by the Vimes Residence early that day, with a small gift for Young Sam of small tin watchmen. Officially he had simply been on his patrol and wanted to give his regards. But Carrot was nothing if not a terrible liar, and it was clearly also to make sure that Vimes didn’t get nervous on his mandatory day off. ‘All seems calm back at the stations’ he had said. That much Vimes believed at least. The day before Hogswatch was usually always calm, as the Guilds prepared their annual dinners, and any unlicensed criminals were laying low in preparation for the big break-ins planned later in the night. The night would be the real bugger. Crime never slept after all, and neither could the policeman.

But Vimes was not to think about any of that. Sybil and everyone had been very firm on that. This was Young Sam’s first Real Hogswatch. He had had others the previous years of course, but he had been too young to really understand what was going on. One year they had even celebrated it a full week late because Vimes and been so caught up in a case. Young Sam had been too young to care then, not knowing more than that he was given lots of fun toys seemingly out of nowhere.

No tricks would work this time around though. Young Sam very much understood now that Hogswatch was a Thing. A Big Thing. Possibly the most important Thing Ever. He especially knew about the Hogfather. He was fascinated by the big and magical giver of gifts. Despite that though, Young Sam clearly had some doubt about him.  

For the last few days, he had been going around and asking any and all whether the Hogfather was real. Sybil had said, it made him look like a small image of his father, consumed by a mystery. He had asked Carrot when he swung by. To Vimes’ astonishment, Carrot answered with a straight face: “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

Sitting deep in his soft and pillowy chair, Vimes thought about that still. He knew Carrot was much smarter than he often seemed, but he had the duplicity of… of something very one sided. He couldn’t possibly mean it, could he. Then again, he was Carrot.

Nobby and Fred had been by even earlier in the day. They too had been interrogated by Young Sam and had told him, about how Nobby saw him burst through a wall at the Maul a few years back. That hadn’t helped things at all. Nobby had then given Young Sam a very badly wrapped spoon, as he did every year.

Vimes looked down at his son. He seemed temporary distracted from the mystery by the new toys. Vimes noticed that to Young Sam, they weren’t soldiers, they were explorers, going out to discover the many wonders spread around on the carpet.

As he inspected his son’s adventure, Vimes felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Sybil looking over him to also watch their son at play, pride in her eyes. Her eyebrows were starting to grow back from the latest big mishap at the dragon pens. Additionally, her wig was off, since she had been helping Willikins in the kitchen with the dinner. She was the most beautiful sight Vimes could think of. She met his gaze and smiled.

“Do you need help with anything?” Vimes asked, mostly out of habit.

“Thank you dear, but no. Everything is under control, you just sit here and enjoy your day off. I’ll call out if I need the ham arrested”

There was a knock at the door.

“Don’t get up, I’ll get it” There was loving steel in her voice but steel none the less. The possibility of him doing anything but sit still was simply removed from existence.  Sybil brushed off her apron absentmindedly and grabbed a wig from a stand near the landing, before opening the front door.

“Oh Havelock! Do come in.”

Vimes froze, as he saw the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork enter the door dressed in his usual palette tones.

“Thank you, Sybil, and thank you for the invitation,” Vetinari said. “I do hope I am not coming at an inconvenient time.”

“Uncle Havelock!” Young Sam ran up to Vetinari, with a child’s clear knowledge of who gives the best gifts.

“Oh, we are so glad that you could make it” Sybil looked over to Vimes, still frozen in his chair; “Aren’t we dear?”

Jostled by something more powerful than his surprise at seeing the Black Flamingo in such a domestic setting, Vimes sprang to action. “Of course dear, we are so glad you could make it, your lordship.” The last part had the subtle intonation of a question to his wife, as he was sure she had told him nothing of an invitation.

Vimes looked down at his son, who himself was looking politely but clearly expectantly up at Vetinari. Vetinari too seemed to have noticed his observer.

“Has my godsson had a good Hogswatch so far?” he said as crouched down to meet the eyes of Young Sam, who nodded. “Made any new discoveries?”

“I found out that dragon dung burns green, but mum said I wasn’t to play with it anymore.” Young Sam said in almost a single breath.

“Indeed? Well I might have something else that your mother would improve of instead” He pulled out a small black paper box. Young Sam took the box and quickly looked up at his mother with his best pleading eyes.

“Yes dear, you may open that one now, since Havelock is here.”

Young Sam opened the box and took out what in Vimes’ eyes was an ordinary stone.

“This is from a specialty store in Quarry Lane” Vetinari explained, “the owner told me it was the prize of his coprolite collection, of seemingly unknown origin. This could maybe be your next great mystery to solve.”

Young Sam’s eyes beamed.

“What do we say, love?” asked Sybil habitually.

“Thank you, Uncle Havelock” said Young Sam in the same manor of all children everywhere.

Standing back up, Vetinari looked back towards Vimes, who had seemingly been standing to attention this entire time. Who exactly he had been doing it for even Vimes didn’t know, but the thought let him slacken slightly.

“With that in order, I will not detain you any further,” The side of Vetinari’s mouth lifted slightly in what could possibly be called a smile. “I wish you all a very happy Hogswatch.”

“Wait!” Young Sam tugged at Vetinari’s clothes before he could leave. “Uncle Havelock? Is the Hogfather real?”

Vetinari thought for a small moment and bent down to whisper something into Young Sam’s ear.

“Is that a satisfactory answer?” Young Sam nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Vimes and Hogswatch had never really gotten along all that well. He had been excited early on of course, as all children were. But he soon noticed how he never got any of the fancy toys and sweets that the stories talked about. Not long after, he heard the rumours about how the Hogfather didn’t go into the Shades, only going into homes of the better off children. The thinking was that they, being rich and all, must likely be the children on the nice list, whilst the naughty kids were mostly in the poorer parts of the city. This had made some sense to Vimes at the time. The things done by the various kid gangs fighting ferocious turf-wars around the slums, could doubtfully be called nice. Still there was something about this, that Vimes had distinctly disliked.

A year after that, the stairs up to his mum’s flat had been blocked by a sleeping older man, dressed like the Hogfather. He had been too drunk to stand or form sentences but was still able to grab at the young Vimes, when he had accidentally woken him up whilst trying to sneak around him. He ended up crawling up the backyard junk up to the window instead.

Things hadn’t gone any better after he had joined the watch. Lying dead drunk was far from the worst thing he came to see a Hogfather do. In general, Hogswatch wasn’t a particularly jolly time for watchmen. Crime doesn’t take a day off after all, and as the ranks of the watch grew ever smaller, so did Vimes ability to take the day off either. Nowadays, if he needed a fat, jolly and magical man, he knew where to find Archchancellor Ridcully. He also knew better than to do so.

Vimes pulled himself back into the now and looked again at his son. He had stopped playing with the figures and was looking up at him. He had a thoughtful look on his face.

“Daddy? Is the Hogfather real?”

Vimes kept himself from hesitating: “Now why do you ask that?”

“Mick told me in class, before mrs. Susan shushed ‘im.” said Young Sam, “He said his da had told him it was all sh…- that it was rubbish.”

“And you believe this Mick?”

Young Sam thought about that.

“No, he throws rocks at birds”

“Why do you then ask about the Hogfather?”

Young Sam though about this too.

“I don’t know, he might still be right?”

“Well you have now asked Captain Carrot.”

“Yeah, he said he was real.”

“And you asked Vetinari.”

“Uncle Havelock?”

“Yes, your uncle Havelock”

“He told me, he had it on good otho…, ….othorty, that he was real”

“You even asked Fred and Nob-” Vimes cut himself off, ”-maybe not them…”

Vimes looked into the eyes of his son again. As he did, a fear in him flared. It was a small part of the bigger fear that had awoken the first time he had seen his son. This part said firmly ‘His must be better. He must have the Hogfather, at least for a little while.’

“Of course he’s real, Sam”

 

* * *

 

It was dark out now, but thanks to the light snowfall and to Vimes’ experience with the dark, he could find his way around without much trouble. He had had surprisingly little trouble finding a costume, despite the hour. The thrifty sellers of Ankh-Morpork had seemingly already expected a certain need for last minute Hogfather apparel. The robes were rather too large for him, likely made for someone larger than five feet, but it would have to do.

As Vimes stood on the ridge of the roof, he rested his sack beside the chimney. He took a step backwards as he tried to plan his way from here. Where he stepped though, something moved. The snow must have covered up one of his old tile-traps. As soon as his foot landed on it, it whooshed out across the roof, sending Vimes tumbling down after it. He scrambled to get a grip on something all the way down, but everything was too slippery, too loose. Of course, it was. He had built it to be. That was his last thought before he fell over the edge.

The frantic silence was interrupted by a voice.

“HELLO MISTER VIMES,” Came a voice, deep as an oncoming wave.

Vimes opened his eyes and looked around. He was dangling from the roof gutter with both hands. ‘That explains the pain at least’ Vimes thought to himself as the ringing in his ears was overtaken by the sound his heart frantically pumping. ‘And the pain means I’m at least not dead.’

He looked up at the skeletal figure sitting with his legs dangling down beside his head. Vimes drew his breath, anger building with every intake as he tried to pull himself up.

“What…. have I ……. said ……. about scaring ……. me like this?” Vimes said whilst struggling to climb back onto the roof. His arms ached already.

“MY APPOLOGIES,” said the cloaked Death: “ALTHOUGH I MUST POINT OUT, THAT I DO NOT CHOSE WHEN I APPEAR TO YOU. NEITHER DO I CAUSE THESE NEAR DEATH ENCAUNTERS OF YOUR’S.”

“Near death??” Vimes hissed, as he took a break halfway up onto the roof; “It’s a f.. -a darn fall of a roof. I’ve done much worse!”

“YOU WOULD BE SURPRISED,” Death gave Vimes an attempt at a comforting smile[1]: “YOU SEE THE LOT ON THIS JOB.”

Vimes had heaved himself all the way up and sat on the edge beside Death. He has silent for a little while.

“Could that really have been It?” He asked eventually: ”Crawling on the roof like some thief, trying to trick my son”

“INDEED. ALTHOUGH I DO THINK YOU ARE BEING UNFAIR TO CALL IT TRICKERY.”

“YOU WERE DOING A VERY IMPORTANT THING,” Said Death: “YOU WERE BRINGING YOUR SON JOY AND ENSURING HIM SOME WONDER.”

After a bit he added: “THIS TYPE OF THING IS REALLY NOT MY STRENGTH. BUT IF IT HELPS, YOU DIDN’T DIE. YOU ARE HERE AND ALIVE.”

There was silence again. Then Vimes chuckled. It was soft and deep, a release of tension more than anything.

“My mum used to say that. ‘This is here, and this is now, and now you are alive’ she would always say.” Vimes said this softly, mostly to himself. “It wasn’t until Constable Visit joined us, that I realised it was Omnian. She mostly just meant it to keep us happy with what we had.”

The silence that followed was interrupted by a sound like a cough from Death.

“ARE YOU?”

“Am I what?”

“ARE YOU HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU HAVE?”

“Of course!” Vimes yelped, afront plain in his face: “I don’t deserve half the things I have!”

“IF THAT’S SO” Death stood up whilst he spoke: “THEN I THINK THIS WENT TOWARDS EARNING IT.”

As Death turned to walk away, Vimes noticed a bright white horse standing on the roof. As the Horseman stood beside it, he looked back at Vimes: “BY THE WAY, I WOULD RECOMMEND PADDING THAT COAT WITH SOME PILLOWS.“

The figure of Death not so much as mounted the horse as was suddenly sat astride it.

“NOW HAVE A HAPPY HOGSWATCH, MISTER VIMES.”

Vimes watched to figure fly off and disappear into the sky. After a small while, he went back to his work. He grabbed his sack and lifted himself up onto the largest chimney. Now very cautiously, he worked his way down in a slow and steady pace.

 

[1] A difficult feat with no facial tissues. It had mixed success.

* * *

 

 

The parlour was quiet and in shadow as a gentle puff of ash wafted out of the fireplace. His Grace, His Excellency, The Duke of Ankh hunched over as he crawled out into the dark room. His disheveled and decidedly dirty robes hung down and bundled around his feet. The fake beard hung loose around his neck. His face was that of distilled determination. Peeking around, he spotted the small shape sleeping in his big comfy chair. Vimes sighed in relief. He hadn’t actually expected his son to stay awake all night, but you never could be sure. He went over and tucked him in slightly better.

As he stood up, he –something was off. There was someone behind him. Powered mostly by reflexes honed by many nights out on the streets, Vimes’ entire torso turned around. His fist leading the movement. The punch was stopped though, caught in a soft and rather indifferent belly. Looking up, Vimes met eyes with the porcine face of the Hogfather. He had seemingly been interrupted from his offered glass of cherry and was looking down at him in mild confusion.

Sam Vimes’ second fist hit the glass into the air on the way up at the large tusked snout. Vimes had to admit the mask stayed on very well, as the large figure stumbled back in shock. Vimes hurried a look at his son, who still slept despite the noise. He hurried over to the man in the suit, determined not to allow him to recover his senses his senses just yet.

The disguised intruder looked at him and, to Vimes’ surprise, grunted like a boar. Then, also glancing at the sleeping Young Sam, the Hogfather grabbed Vimes’ shirt and snapped.

Vimes felt as if his feet shot up into his head in an instant. Then it was over, and he was… standing on the roof again. He looked up and saw the Hogfather a little way away, smiling at him.

“What the hell happened?” Vimes demanded as he forced his bowels back down.

“Magic.” came the deep and rough voice from the figure before him.

“That’s about as much of an answer as I could have expected,” Vimes admitted. “Ye gods, I hate it.”

“I wanted us away from your son. Quickly. To not awaken him.” the Hogfather reached out a conciliatory hand, “You are forgiven. You thought me an intruder. You did not believe. Understandable.”

“You can believe, you would have gotten worse, if he hadn’t been sleeping right there,” said Vimes, still rather drunk on the adrenaline and nausea. “No one breaks into my home. No one!”

“Oh yes.” the Hogfather’s smile grew wider and could only be called jolly. “I know of you. Sam Vimes. There are stories. Belief. You beat a dragon. You beat werewolf. You stopped a war. You ended another. Incorruptible Stoneface. You could easily become a god.”

“Over my dead body!” Vimes shouted, out of annoyance more than anything. “And don’t you change the topic on me, you bastard! You were breaking into my Home! What gives you the right?”

The Hogfather paused for a moment, then made a wide gesture as if to point the entirety of himself, then pointing at something behind Vimes. Turning instinctively around, he saw, sure enough, a big sleigh and four large boars, standing idly on the roof.

“It is my way.” said the Hogfather. ”I have always done this. Since before chimneys.”

“Well you can leave this one out.” Said Vimes, deeply angry, although not knowing why. “I’m the richest man in the city, I do In no way need your charity. Give it to kids in Cockbill street instead. My house is mine!”

The stupid grin widened.

“As you wish.” There was a snap again. It felt just as bad the second time. Damn stupid magic.

Vimes was still fuming with anger as he opened his eyes and saw his son peacefully asleep still. All of rage evaporated at that.

He retrieved his sack from the fireplace and took out the gifts and laid them over by the others. Then he kissed his son lightly on the forehead and pulled his blanket slightly higher. He went up the stairs, threw off his costume and hid it well, and went to wash as much soot off of his face as he could. A little while after, an exhausted Sam Vimes collapsed into bed next to his wife.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was part of a fic exchange with the lovely and badass Pip, aka Strawberriesandtophats. Sorry this didn't exactly end up the fluffy romp i had initially planned for, but i hope you like it all the same.
> 
> Happy Hogswatch!


End file.
